Our fairytale was shattered on April 27, 2018, and our nightmare began. Jeff received a terminal diagnosis: cancer. Fear coursed through my entire body. I was in shock the moment I heard the words “terminal diagnosis.” I felt paralyzed and frozen in fear. Jeff’s terminal diagnosis was three to six months to live; that is when my anticipatory grief began. Often, we think of grief as the pain we feel when someone we love passes away. Yet, grief and anticipatory grief encompass a much broader meaning. For me, the day of his terminal diagnosis marked the start of our anticipatory grief. We lived in the fear and agony of his impending death, knowing it was inevitable. We grieved for the dreams we would never share and for the limited time that remained due to his terminal diagnosis. That anticipatory grief was intertwined in our daily lives. But the day would come when I would have to face my grief alone after he was gone. I did not allow my mind to wander into those fearful corners of my thoughts; that grief, that was something I could not prepare for, nor was I ready to accept. We lived in fear every day, acutely aware that Jeff’s death was imminent; it was impossible to forget the terminal diagnosis. However, we couldn’t let the fears of our shattered future dreams and anticipatory grief consume us. We chose to focus on what we could control and compartmentalize the fear surrounding the terminal diagnosis. We could control how we lived, loved one another, and fought cancer with the fear of death fueling our fire. We learned to compartmentalize our fear and anticipatory grief as best we could, though it was always present. From that day forward, our lives were filled with pain medications, doctor appointments, surgeries, and treatments as we attempted to manage the terminal diagnosis and put our fears and anticipatory grief on a shelf.  

We took the approach that living in a state of grief and fear was not productive for trying to save Jeff from a terminal diagnosis; it would only cripple us. Furthermore, living in fear of his impending death and the anticipatory grief would only wear away at whatever time we had left together. We could not let the terminal diagnosis infect our love and the little time we had remaining. 

We wanted to ensure we captured every precious moment left. With aggressive treatments and advocacy, we could transform those three to six months into three and a half years. While fear and anticipatory grief were always close by, we made sure to find beauty amid the chaos and cancer. It wasn’t easy to avoid thinking about Jeff’s terminal diagnosis; there were days when the fear felt less present, but often it overwhelmed us. 

One of the tools I’ve carried throughout my life, which also helped me cope with the pain of losing my husband Jeff years later, is the understanding that most things in life are temporary. When we find ourselves in the depths of grief and fear, it can feel endless, but it is, in fact, temporary. Developing strategies to find reprieve during those difficult times is essential. Those challenging moments become more manageable if we cultivate skills that guide us toward peace, positivity, and gratitude amid our grief. We must not allow the heartbreak of cancer or the painful loss of a spouse paralyze us. Moving through grief instead of getting stuck in it is one of the tools we can use to move forward and weave happiness into our grief.